The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

Draeven’s strength was obvious, his massive form overpowering Kaelen’s smaller body, his claws raking across Kaelen’s scales and drawing silver ichor. But Kaelen was faster, more agile, and his strikes were precise. He twisted in Draeven’s grip, his tail whipping around to strike his brother’s side, his teeth snapping at Draeven’s shoulder.

Neither dragon was trying to kill. But neither was holding back either.

This was a battle for dominance, for control, for understanding.

Draeven pinned one of Kaelen’s wings, using his superior weight to force the ice dragon to the ground. Kaelen shrieked, a sound of fury and desperation and twisted his body violently. The wing tore slightly where Draeven held it, and Kaelen managed to pull free, leaving a few scales behind.

They grappled, and for a moment, Kaelen had the advantage. The ice dragon moved with the wild desperation of someone who had lost control, who was fighting not to win but to survive. He raked his claws across Draeven’s flank, leaving deep gouges that bled golden fire.

Draeven roared in pain but didn’t retreat.

Instead, he shifted his weight and used his superior mass to drive Kaelen backward across the training ground. The smaller dragon’s claws gouged the earth as he fought for purchase, but Draeven’s power was too much.

In the background, Thorne watched and waited.

The dark blue dragon moved with a predator’s grace, circling the two combatants, looking for an opening, waiting for the moment when Kaelen would be vulnerable. His eyes, completely black and utterly inhuman, tracked every movement.

Draeven and Kaelen crashed into the stone wall of the training ground with enough force to crack the ancient stonework. The impact knocked the breath from Kaelen’s lungs, and for just a moment, his struggle ceased.

That was when Draeven made his move.

The golden dragon seized his brother’s throat...not biting, but gripping, using his jaws as a tool of control rather than a weapon. He pressed Kaelen against the wall, his massive form dominating the smaller dragon completely.

The message was clear: Stop. Submit. Let me help you.

Kaelen thrashed, his entire body twisting and convulsing in Draeven’s grip. His tail whipped uselessly. His claws scraped against the stone, leaving gouges the size of a man’s hand. His wings beat frantically, but Draeven’s weight held him pinned.

Thorne stepped closer, ready to help if needed, but something in the situation told him to wait.

Kaelen’s struggles began to slow.

The wild thrashing reduced to trembling. The desperate rage in his eyes began to fade, replaced by confusion and recognition. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Kaelen stopped fighting.

Draeven held his grip for a few more moments, then slowly released his brother’s throat.

Kaelen sagged against the wall, his breathing ragged, his body trembling.

For a moment, the two dragons simply stood there, the energy draining from them, the adrenaline beginning to fade.

Then the transformation back began.

***

Draeven shifted back first.

His golden scales began to recede, his massive body shrinking, his wings folding and disappearing. The transformation was smooth and controlled, driven by will rather than desperation. Where the transformation into dragon form had been a moment of loss of control, this one was the opposite, a deliberate, careful return to humanity.

It took perhaps thirty seconds.

When it was complete, Draeven stood before his brother in human form, naked and breathing heavily, covered in sweat and blood. He was still shaking with adrenaline, but his eyes were clear. He understood what had happened.

Kaelen’s transformation back was more difficult.

The pale silver scales seemed reluctant to leave, clinging to his body as if they belonged there. His wings fought the change, their delicate membranes resisting the dissolution of dragon form. His body seemed confused about whether it should be human or dragon.

But slowly, inexorably, the transformation progressed.

His body shrank. His wings folded and disappeared, leaving ragged holes in what had been his clothing. His scales receded, leaving only pale, unmarked skin beneath. His face restructured, his jaw shortening, his teeth becoming blunt human teeth once more.

The transformation completed with a final shimmer of silver light.

Kaelen collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath, his entire body shaking with tremors that seemed to come from deep within. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. His chest heaved, his lungs desperate for air, his entire form wracked with the aftereffects of the transformation.

He was bleeding in several places.....places where Draeven’s claws had cut deeply enough to penetrate scales and reach the flesh beneath. His right wing had torn during the battle, and the wound would likely scar. His entire body was battered and bruised, as if he’d been through a war.

Thorne shifted back to human form as well, his dark blue scales disappearing, leaving a figure that was lean and powerful and utterly still despite the chaos that surrounded them.

Draeven moved to Kaelen, helping his brother to his knees, pulling him into a sitting position against the stone wall.

”I... couldn’t...” Kaelen gasped, his voice hoarse from roaring, his eyes unfocused with shock and shame. ”I lost... I lost control completely...”

”I know,” Draeven said, his own voice rough.

”I could have killed someone,” Kaelen whispered. ”I could have... the warriors...”

”But you didn’t,” Thorne said, appearing beside them. He picked up a discarded cloak and threw it over Kaelen’s shoulders, providing at least a modicum of modesty. ”And we stopped you before anyone died.”

Servants were beginning to emerge from their hiding places, appearing on the edges of the training ground with medical supplies and fresh clothing for the kings. Captain Rhen was still pressed against the wall, his eyes wide with shock, his mind still processing what he’d witnessed.

The training ground was in ruins. Half the field was scorched black. Equipment was destroyed. The stone wall was cracked and damaged. And in the center of all this devastation stood three naked men, bleeding and bruised, still shaking with the aftermath of their transformations.